


The Curse of Gormlaith Gaunt

by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Auror Teddy Lupin, Canon Compliant, Complete, Curse Breaking, Curses, Declarations Of Love, Fairy Tale Curses, Fluff, Getting Together, Harry Potter Next Generation, M/M, Quidditch Player James Sirius Potter, Sleeping Beauty Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-02-28 05:46:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18750226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion/pseuds/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion
Summary: It begins with James trying to stitch up a mistake, and ends with him pricking his finger on a sewing needle. There are no spindles, no dark fairies, and no tall towers covered in thorns, but James starts finding it harder and harder to stay awake anyway.It’s up to Teddy to convince him that there are things worth staying awake for, and people worth fighting curses for.





	1. Spindle

**Author's Note:**

> Tried really hard not to title this with a prick pun. Succeeded, but I’m not really happy about it. The first chapter is in James’s POV, and the second is in Teddy’s POV, and then it switches back to James. I just sort of wanted to write something with a modern fairytale twist, so here we go! 
> 
> Rated T because there’s a LOT of swearing, and some suggestive moments I guess? Not very many. But lots of swearing.
> 
> EDIT: forgot to add that James and Isolt and Gormlaith etc are real people in the HP universe! They’re on the interwebs, I didn’t make them up. I was checking to see if there was a sleeping curse already, since I made one up, and Gormlaith Gaunt’s Curse already existed, so I played around with that instead!

ONE

THE contents of the drawer erupted in a shower of quills, old wrappers, receipts and Quidditch Match ticket stubs. James winced, watching a roll of Spellotape run under the bed; it was possible that he'd pulled on the drawer too hard. But this was an emergency, and there was no time to waste on picking everything up just yet. Dropping the jumper he was holding on top of the dresser, James began to rummage through the mess.

Everybody always said that Teddy was a clean, neat person that James could do with paying more attention to. The joke was on them: James was always paying attention to Teddy, and therefore he was the only one who knew about all the secret, shameful drawers and cupboards crammed full of odds and ends. Teddy was messy in private. James has always found it endearing, before, and somewhat humanising, but it was going to be his downfall today. 

“Come on, come on, where the fuck are you,” James muttered to himself frantically. “I know you're in here somewhere, there's—Ha!” 

His triumphant shout rang through the empty flat. James yanked a small velvet parcel out of the debris and flipped it open on top of the dresser. Three shiny needles glinted up at him from their silky pockets, along with several spools of thread.

“I knew he had one of these somewhere. Right.” Momentarily stumped, James blinked down at the sewing kit. “Okay, how do I sew?”

The room had no response, nothing in the way of helpful suggestions. 

“Fuck it, I can figure it out,” James muttered. He picked up the sewing kit and the jumper beneath it, and headed for the bathroom, where he locked the door and sat on the closed toilet lid. If Teddy came back early, James didn't want to be caught trying to fix his mistake on the bed or the living room. Hell, he didn’t want to be caught at all, ever, even if he knew deep down that Teddy wouldn’t be mad at him. Hopefully, by the time Teddy got back, all the evidence would be gone, the jumper would be stitched up, and nobody would ever have to know that James had accidentally ripped something very important to Teddy. 

Of course, first he had to tackle this whole sewing business. 

James had never sewn anything in his life, but he had seen Grandma and Ron do it a few times. His first row of stitches were clumsy and unravelled fairly quickly. His second row was worse. He had a feeling he was ruining the jumper further just by trying to fix it, but he couldn’t risk taking it through the dirty fireplace, and there wasn't much of an option unless he wanted to—

“Ow! Shit.” James dropped the needle that had pricked him and stuck his finger in his mouth, wincing. Copper touched his tongue, that old coin taste lingering there.

Grimacing, James took his wand from behind his ear and prodded his finger, sealing the small cut with a short command. Healing spells were tricky and took a lot of effort, a lot of practice, but a lifetime of playing Quidditch and falling off brooms meant he had gotten quite good at healing small cuts and bruises. This was nothing, even if it did hurt a bit.

James glared down at the jumper in his lap. “You're not gonna win. I know I shouldn't have worn you in the first place, but you're not going to win this. Ask anyone—I don’t go down easy!”

James then prodded himself in the head with his wand, wondering if he could heal sudden bouts of insanity, or if that was the sort of thing that required more practice. 

It would be so much easier if he could use magic, but the jumper was old. It had been old when Remus Lupin first wore it, so it was even older now that his son was twenty-nine. The edges were frayed and the deep forest green colour had faded to a more docile hue, but it remained thick and comfortable. That was why James had taken it that morning, while Teddy had been at work, and worn it while he made lunch in Teddy’s chilly flat. It had been the first comfortable thing his hands touched in a haze of sleep. 

And now one of the sleeves was ripped cleanly down the side, courtesy of a clumsy kitchen incident—cupboard corners were deceivingly lethal—and any magic would probably do more harm than good when the material was so old and frail and important. 

The clock in the hallway ticked over to four, but James didn't hear it. He was busy stitching and re-stitching, until the sleeve looked almost exactly the way it used to. The thread was a little darker than the rest of the jumper, but it was only noticeable if you were looking for it. It would do. 

When Teddy opened the door to his own flat, an hour or so later, most of James’s anxiety had faded. He lay on Teddy’s sofa with a packet of crisps, doodling all over yesterday’s newspaper. Rita Skeeter, he had discovered, looked far better with devil horns and large fangs scrawled on top of her bug-like face, but that was old news to most people. 

“Evening, Auror Lupin. Catch lots of bad guys in my honour?”

“Hello, person who doesn’t live here,” Teddy said, with the beginnings of a smile as he kicked the door shut. “Why’s it in your honour?” 

“Rude,” James said, absently giving Kingsley a stylish top-hat. “Anyone would think I didn't brighten up your life just by existing.”

“And we can’t have that.” Teddy shed his Auror robes by the door, hanging them up—they clung to every inch of muscle and stuck to his thighs like wallpaper paste, so James was naturally sad to see them go. He did get a good look at Teddy’s thigh-holsters though, where his wand often lived. The evening was already looking up. 

“You still didn’t say why it would be in your honour?” 

“Maybe I just like to think of you taking down criminals in my name,” James said. “Tackling them with your massive arms and thinking of me.” 

It was a hair too close to the truth for his liking, but that was often the best way to avoid being found out, and Teddy never believed it when James flirted with him anyway. 

Teddy snorted, dropping a bag of takeout on James’s lap as he moved towards the kitchen. James abandoned the newspaper immediately, to sit up and clutch the bag close to his chest. He groaned, loud and exaggeratedly, as he inhaled the scent of chicken, salty rice and sweet and sour sauce. 

“Please tell me you got pancake rolls!” James ripped open the bag and crowed in delight. “You did! Fuck yes. You’re my favourite Hufflepuff, you know that?”

Teddy’s laugh floated out from the kitchen, a sound that wasn’t praised enough, in James’s humble opinion. He heard Teddy moving about from room to room while he sorted through the containers in the bag. He had a flash of unease when the bedroom door opened and shut, thinking of the jumper folded carefully in the bottom drawer of the dresser, the way he’d found it. Fiddling with the bag, James waited with bated breath. 

“Oi,” Teddy said, appearing in the doorway in a pair of black joggers. James lost all the breath in his body in one fell swoop. Teddy’s top half was bare, all toned muscle and fading tan lines on show. Several pale scars lined his chest from work, and there was a small, glinting moon tattooed at the top of his stomach that caught the eye. 

James let himself look for three long, beautiful seconds before tearing his eyes away. 

“Yeah?”

Teddy smirked knowingly at him. “If you’re gonna go through my stuff, at least put it back afterwards.” He held up the roll of Spellotape and laughed when James flipped him off. “Come on, Jamie. You’re usually better at covering your tracks.”

With a wink and another laugh, he headed back into the bedroom. Hopefully, James thought, as he pried open a container of shredded beef, to put on a shirt, because otherwise James wasn’t going to be held responsible for his actions. He was going to leap and the fall was going to be quite a long way down. 

He pictured kissing Teddy on this very sofa, nothing sour about it, and then banished the thought to the back of his brain when Teddy appeared with forks, a shirt, and a sweet smile just for him. His heart flipped over at the smile. 

James wanted Teddy, there was no doubt about it, but Teddy didn’t see him that way, and he wasn’t going to risk it, not yet.

A friendship, after all, was not as easily mended as a jumper.

*

Morning came in all its glory, birds and sunshine and whatnot. James has been sworn at all his life, called a morning person in hateful, vicious tones, and it only ever made him stronger. He was usually one to get up early and seize the day, the first to head for the Quidditch pitch and practice before the team got there, the first to fill the kitchen with the scents of breakfast or the sounds of spitting eggs and the radio. He would sing and read and practice terribly loud spells, and he would go for morning jogs or pop over to Albus’s flat and bother him into eating something healthy for breakfast—when that didn't work, he often resorted to just bothering Albus for the fun of it, which always worked.

But that morning, James pulled the covers over his head and groaned. He felt like he could sleep for at least a few hours more, but he didn't remember waking up in the night. He hadn’t even gone to bed late, sinking into sleep as soon as his face hit the pillows, but it felt like he’d taken a hike while unconscious. As though he’d been sleeping but not resting. 

With another groan, James dragged himself reluctantly out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. His flat was small enough, with one other bedroom that Hugo kipped in on weekends, since it was closer to Culinary School than his parents house. It was a Thursday, so Hugo wasn’t there, but James kinda wished he was. Hugo always made the best food, and he wouldn’t have said no to one of those fancy omelettes, with bacon and mushrooms and the weird leaves on top. 

Brushing his teeth seemed to take all of his effort. He dredged up a Pepper-Up potion in the bathroom cabinet and downed it, smacking his lips as pure fire rushed through him. Steam poured out of his ears, fogging up the mirror. 

“Better,” James said, grinning at his reflection when the glass cleared. He still looked a bit like shit, but nobody else would dare say that to his face. 

“You look like shit,” Paul said, with an exaggerated double-take when James made his way into the locker room that morning. James flipped him off and rummaged through his bag for his gear. The exhaustion had faded by now, but he knew he looked tired. 

“I’m serious,” Paul said, picking up his Beater’s bat and swinging it around. “You have a late night?”

James snorted at the suggestive look. 

“I wish. I think I must have gone flying in my sleep or something.” James shrugged off his shirt and started putting on his uniform, the Appleby Arrows sigil catching the light as he straightened up the lapels proudly. Paul had a look on his face, as though he wanted to press the issue, so James quickly said, “How’s Jess?”

Paul’s face brightened as he launched into a ready-made spiel about his beautiful fiancé. The conversation took them out onto the field, where James managed to escape by hopping on his broom and zooming away, laughing at the look of dawning realisation on Paul’s face. 

Practice was good. He had the Quaffle more often than not, and made several passes that got him a cheer from Fahra, the Seeker, circling up above on the hunt for the snitch. It woke him up, made him grin and tease and laugh as he zipped in and out of his teammates. There was nothing like flying to make him feel alive, nothing like the wind rushing through his hair, urging him along, to make him feel like he’d never need to sleep again. 

When he dismounted his broom at the end of a three hour practice, James was pleasantly tired. His muscles were sore, but not to the point of berating him with every movement. He dodged Paul and his curious stare and went to stand beside Perkin’s, the other Beater. Perkin’s clapped him on the shoulder as Emma swept towards them, her stern face alight with pride. 

“Good job everyone,” Emma said, looking at each of them in turn and tucking her hair behind her ear. “It’s really coming together this season. This is going to be our year. I can feel it!”

Emma was Team Captain for a reason; even her smallest speeches were enough to inspire them. It was hard to feel tired in the cheers that followed. James put two fingers in his mouth and whistled, loud and clear, trying not to wince when his index finger throbbed with a forgotten ache. He shook out his hand as Perkin’s shook him by the shoulder, laughing. 

“Don't get too cocky,” Emma said, but she was grinning. “We still have a few weeks before the first match of the season, and I don't want to see any of you slacking. The minute we get too comfortable, complacent—that’s when things start to get rough. There’s always room for improvement, understand?” She nodded when they did. “Good, now bugger off. You all stink.”

James only let himself slump when he stepped into the shower, soaking in the hot spray. Steam filled the locker room, mingling with the raucous shouts of his teammates as they threw towels at each other and made jokey, suggestive comments. Some of them were a little more serious than others, James noted with amusement, listening to Callum talking about Alice, their other Chaser. He leaned against the shower partition and groaned as his shoulders relaxed. 

“Oi, Potter!” Callum yelled. “Better not be enjoying that shower too much!”

James quirked a grin. No doubt Callum would appear at the top of the door if James didn't reply, or crawl underneath it, always one to ignore boundaries, so James tipped his head back and moaned so loudly that it echoed. 

“Christ.” Callum sounded wounded, a bit dazed. A round of snickering and one helpless howl of laughter made James grin, safely behind the door. 

“You asked for that, mate,” Perkin’s said. 

James tuned out the talking and laughing. He had leaned more heavily against the wall over the last few minutes, he noticed, but for the life of him, he couldn’t be bothered to stand up straight. It was hard enough to keep his eyes open. 

Someone banged on the door, and James jerked upright. 

“Hurry up, Potter! Some of us have lives to get back to!”

James sighed, grabbing the soap. He washed quickly, but it still took longer than usual, and the shower felt cold by the time he’d finished. He warmed it again with a spell before sliding a towel around his waist, letting someone else take the cubicle. He didn't even register who, too busy trying to put his clothes on without opening his eyes more than a millimetre.

“Try getting some sleep tonight, Potter,” Paul said, surprising him at the door. He grinned before James could protest, and said, “It’s sad, seeing you look even more like shit than usual. Just makes me feel like dressing extra ugly tomorrow, so you don't feel too self-conscious, y’know?”

James gave him a pointed look up and down, lingering on his clog-like shoes. “Is that possible? I think you’ve already hit as low as you can go.”

That got him a playful shove and another smart remark. They clapped hands as they left, and James grabbed his broom before heading to the Apparation point, dragging his feet. He had plans to meet Albus and Scorpius for lunch, and it was tempting to cancel and spend all day sleeping on the sofa instead, but he was sure Albus would kill him if he missed it. Then he’d start feeling all self-conscious and insecure about whether James loved him or not, and he’d snap at every human in his path, and James would have to put him in a headlock and loudly list off all the reasons why he wanted to spend time with him. 

Skipping would arguably end up being more effort than it was worth, but James was still tempted. Instead, he Apparated straight from the Quidditch Pitch to the Leaky Cauldron an hour early, so as not to be lured in by the soft, comfortable cushions of his sofa.

*

James jerked away from the hand poking him in the ribs. He blinked blearily up at Teddy, whose face loomed above, soft with amusement and a touch of concern.

“Alright there, Jamie?” 

James nodded, releasing a yawn that cracked his jaw as he sat upright. It was difficult to move, considering he was swamped in a mound of pillows and hand-knitted throws, all in varying shades of earthy brown and green and gentle mulberry. Grunting, James began to excavate his way out while Teddy watched on, clearly enjoying his pain. 

“Molly sent me to get you, she says dinner’s ready.” Teddy raised an eyebrow as a cushion went flying. “Did you mean to fall asleep?”

“Grandma’s sofa is the best place to take a nap,” James explained, as he kicked away the last throw. It wasn’t quite an answer; the truth was he had sat down for a minute, and didn’t even remember closing his eyes. But the truth was uncomfortable the longer he thought about it, and Teddy would worry. 

“You’ve been doing too many hours,” Teddy said, but the concern was gone now, replaced solely with amusement. “Too much work and no play makes James a tired boy.”

Teddy held out a hand for James to take, which he did, something in his chest righting as he clung to the warm, calloused palm. Teddy had strong hands. They were hands that flung protective spells at work, hands that comforted victims and strangers, hands that soothed aches and held people up when they felt weak. They were strong hands, capable of fighting and dealing deadly blows, capable of protecting those who needed it. They were also some of the gentlest, most careful hands James had ever known, capable of such sweet touches. He held on for as long as he dared, long enough for Teddy to look down at him with an inscrutable stare. 

“You sure everything’s okay?”

James shrugged, letting go of Teddy’s hand. “Yeah, it’s just like you said. Lots of hours. We’ve got our first match of the season in a few weeks, and I want to be on top of my game.”

“I’ve never seen you be anything but brilliant,” Teddy said, as they headed for the kitchen, where the rest of the family were already halfway through the usual seating squabbles. 

The words sent a warm rush through James. He grinned up Teddy, running a hand through his hair to straighten out the bed-head and trying to stifle the blush that threatened to rise in his face and neck. 

“Thanks, Teddy.” Then he cleared his throat and stormed into the room, voice loud as he announced, “Teddy’s sitting by me! He’s saying nice things about how amazing I am, unlike you arseholes, so he gets to sit by me.”

Teddy sighed. James liked to believe that he was done out of affection. 

“Shocker,” Rose said, with an eye roll that James ignored. She obligingly moved one space down to make room for them in the middle. When everyone was seated and the squabble had moved on to who had too many potatoes, Teddy pinched James in the thigh, presumably for being a little shit, and James offered a charming grin in return. 

“Sorry, Teddy,” Albus said across the table, with a slight smirk. “If we’d known this was your fate, we would have saved you a seat away from him.”

“But then where would Scorpius sit?” James asked, mock-innocently, taking the gravy boat that floated his way. “Oh! That’s right! In your lap, like he’s doing right now even though there’s loads of free seats.”

Albus and he exchanged a few choice gestures while Scorpius sidled a little more to the left, still with a rather pleased smile at having been anywhere near Albus’s lap at all. Teddy pinched James’s thigh again and then kept his hand there for an absurdly long time, during which James forgot how to breathe. The gravy boat upended when Lucy lunged at Louis over the table, and Grandma Molly banned four of them from having any dessert, only to cave by the time the spoons and cake came out. 

All in all, it was very ordinary meal at the the Burrow. Or it would have been, if James hadn’t had to fight to stay awake the whole time.

*

Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes stank of eggs. This wasn’t unusual, but it wasn’t an Open day, so it was a bit out of the realm of ordinary. And it was really bloody disgusting to boot. James pushed open the door with his nose pinched pointedly between thumb and forefinger, and almost rammed straight into Uncle George.

“Alright James?” George said, grinning around the clothespin holding his nostrils shut. “Want one?” 

James took the offered clothespin and clamped it in place. His voice came out all funny when he asked, “Christ, what did you do this time?” 

George pointed to the aisle closest, which was thick and dark with hazy smoke. “Someone mixed Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder with one of those new Eggsploding Firecrackers. I'm waiting to see if it's going to blow up before I do something about the smell.”

“Does Angelina know you're just… watching the chaos?” But James found himself grinning, already anticipating the answer, and grinned even harder when George shook his head, proving him right. “Alright, well, you called me here, so where'd you want me? As long as it's far away from the egg smell, I'm all yours.”

“Freddie's in the back, sorting through the stock, so you can help him.” 

James only deemed it safe to remove the clothespin when the door to the stockroom closed behind him, and even then there was a faint tinge to the air. He spotted Freddie digging through a box near the desk, surrounded by shelves of rumpled stock, and he picked up the nearest thing to lob at his back. It just so happened to be a Slapping Sock.

“Oi!” Freddie snapped, whirling around with a hand on the back of his neck. His face brightened at the sight of James, and then sunk back into a glower. “Oh, it’s you.”

The Slapping Sock fell to the floor with a flop, having done its job.

“Don't sound so excited.” James strolled closer, noting the red mark on the back of Freddie’s neck from the sock when he turned his back. 

“I won’t.” 

“What crawled up your arse and died?” 

Freddie rolled his eyes, shifting through the box. “Nothing.”

James frowned at him. They'd always been close, him and Freddie. Freddie was the first person he'd told about his crush on Teddy, the first person to tell him that it was ‘probably fine, mate, and nobody's gonna care. Al’s banging a Malfoy, so it could be worse.’ James had punched him in the arm for that, but it had still been nice to hear. 

It wasn't the same closeness that James felt for his siblings, or for Teddy, but out of all his cousins, Freddie was the one that made him feel the most relaxed. They'd had plenty of arguments over the years, but usually James knew exactly what he'd done, because he'd done it on purpose.

This time, James was clueless, and to his horror, Freddie actually looked _hurt_ underneath the dark expression. 

“Freddie,” James said, getting a hand on his shoulder to wheel him around. “Seriously, mate, what is it? What did I do?” 

“It's what you didn't do,” Freddie scoffed, but he looked slightly less mad. “You were supposed to come to lunch last week, and then out for drinks the other night, and I was going to introduce you to Lauren.”

“Shit,” James said, blinking at him. “Shit, I didn't—”

“Turn up?” Freddie cut in acidly, wrenching out of James’s hold. “Yeah, I know. I looked like a right twat. What, did you have a hot date, or just forget that you had other friends?”

“I fell asleep.” James cringed as the words hit the silent room. “Not—fuck, that sounds horrible. It’s not like I just laid down and decided not to bother. I meant to go, I did. I'm so sorry, Freddie.”

“You fell asleep,” Freddie repeated dubiously. When James grimaced and nodded, he blinked rapidly, clearly surprised. “What, all three times? James, what the fuck is going on with you lately?”

“I don't know,” James said, an uneasy feeling gathering in his stomach. 

This wasn't the first time. He had missed a few pub nights with Albus and Scorpius, and slept right through dinner with his parents. Both had resulted in passive-aggressive letters steeped in reproval and concern. 

It was getting hard to make it through practice without his head dropping. Lily had come round for company the other night while she worked on a deadline for the Quibbler, and James had snored on the sofa the entire time. She'd left a post-it note on his head, telling him to take care of himself, and to Floo her when he'd decided to stop being so boring. 

James didn’t know what was going on, but he knew it probably wasn’t good. He just didn’t know what to do about it. It was Match season, so it was likely to do with that, but it still made him uneasy. 

James sighed, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “Shit, I'm sorry mate. How about I make it up to you? We could go to that Italian place near mine, and I could meet Lauren then. I'll pay.” 

Freddie eyed him for a minute. James wondered what he was thinking, if he was noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the lack of colour in his cheeks. Part of him, a very small part that James was doing a good job of ignoring, actually wanted Freddie to notice. It was weird; he'd been sleeping more and more lately, but it didn't look like it, and it sure as hell didn't feel like it. He didn't think he'd ever been this tired in his life, and it was showing. 

Finally, Freddie snorted, moving back to the box. “You're damn right you're paying. I'm ordering the most expensive alcohol they've got and I'm going to drink the whole bottle, and you're paying.”

“Good impression on your girlfriend, I'm sure,” James teased, but he still felt a little curl of anxiety at the way Freddie’s shoulders were set. “Are we good?”

“We will be, if you sort yourself out.” Freddie elbowed him, then waved his wand. The Slapping Sock whacked James across the arse before he had a chance to breathe, and Freddie collapsed against the desk in a fit of laughter as James leapt forward, yelping. 

“Okay, now we’re good.” Freddie wiped his eyes and headed for the door, grabbing James by the collar and throwing him a cheeky grin. “C’mon, I wanna see if the egg powder’s knocked Dad out yet.” 

James let himself by pulled along, a delighted grin pulling at his mouth. “You mixed it, didn't you?” 

“‘Course I did, Jamsie-boy, ‘course I did.”

*

James blinked awake, taken aback by the dark room that greeted him. He could have sworn that it wasn't that late a minute ago, but the windows were still uncovered, and not a hint of sunlight met his curious gaze. A lamp was on in the corner, and he could hear the quiet buzz of a wireless somewhere else in the flat.

It was then, in the soft dark, that he noticed a sound underneath his left ear. He'd thought he was lying on the sofa, where he'd been sat with Teddy, playing Scrabble and drinking terrible, homemade cocktails, but—

“Jamie?” 

—That was a heartbeat. Under his ear, he could feel a heartbeat, and the cushions beneath him weren't as soft as usual. James swallowed, the sound like a gunshot in the quiet, and lifted his head to find Teddy looking down at him. Teddy smirked a little, just the corner of his mouth tipped up, but in the lazy light it was too gentle to be anything but fond. 

“Hi,” James said, mouth dry. 

Teddy chuckled, and it rumbled through a James like thunder in a cave, shaking the walls of his heart. They were lying on the sofa, entwined, with James practically blanketing Teddy. One of those strong, careful hands reached up and brushed away some of James’s hair, where it had fallen in his eyes. The other hand was on James’s lower back, he realised with a breathless thrill, resting against his t-shirt. 

“Hi yourself. Finally awake, huh, sweets?” 

James’s heart did some sort of complicated gymnastics routine in his chest. He tried not to sigh too audibly. He loved those little names that Teddy doled out sparingly, and he kept them clutched close, but that didn't mean he had to turn into some sort of swooning mess. 

“Yeah, but it doesn't feel like it. I feel like I could sleep for a thousand years more.” James rubbed at one eye, still sprawled all over Teddy. He wasn't moving one second before he was told to. “How long did I sleep for?” 

“About three hours,” Teddy said, and God, he had one of those voices that suited any moment. Commanding and firm one minute, teasing and cocky the next; rough with sleep and still gentle for it, now. 

James groaned, dropping back to hide his face in Teddy’s shirt. “You could have moved me. Don't you have cramp from lying here this long?”

“You fell asleep on my shoulder first.” Teddy made a little amused sound. “Lily was right, you do drool a lot. I mean, I already knew that from finding you in my bed for the last however many years, but still, it's nice to confirm.” 

James kicked lazily at Teddy’s shin with his socked feet, but couldn't find the energy to do more than that. Teddy kept on chuckling, wrapping his arm more tightly around his back as they slipped further down the sofa. 

“I moved you after a while, and had a nap too, so no cramps. You lost Scrabble, by the way.”

James scowled into Teddy’s shirt. “I never lose Scrabble. If I was asleep, you could have just gone through the bag and got whatever tiles you wanted, so any words after I fell asleep don't count.”

“Anyone who falls asleep during a game automatically forfeits a game.”

“That's not a rule.”

“It is.”

James grunted, kicking Teddy again, already halfway back to sleep. “It's not in the official rule book.” 

“It is.” Teddy laughed as he held James closer, tighter, and James let himself sigh as Teddy smoothed a hand up his back. “I put it in there while you were snoring.” 

James gave a little helpless laugh, shaking his head without lifting it. “Nerd. Wanna move?” 

“Go to sleep, Jamie. I'm good here.”

James wasn't about to argue with that. He was good there too. He was good anywhere that Teddy was, especially when Teddy had his arms around him, especially when his heartbeat was the only thing James could hear.

*

James gripped the handle of his broom so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Every blink was purposeful, deliberate, a specific closing of the eyes. It had to be, because if he didn't think carefully about each blink, there was no telling when he would open his eyes again.

“C’mon Potter, chin up.” Paul slapped him on the back as he brushed by. “We've got a game to win.” 

James blinked again. He'd taken a Pepper-Up Potion last night, but the rule against performance potions and sports held fast, so he'd gone without any that morning. Not that it would have done much; the potion had grown less and less effective the more he used it, and he'd used it a lot over the last three weeks. 

“Some of your family’s in the stands,” Paul announced, seemingly unaware of James’s struggle, or perhaps just giving James a chance to collect himself. “I saw your moody brother and your blue-haired boy talking earlier, and your parents are here too.”

James shook himself, straightening up. “Teddy’s not my blue-haired boy.” 

“Well, he isn’t anybody else’s, is he?”

It took effort to focus on Paul, but when he did, he was surprised to notice the relief on Paul’s face. 

“There you are. Thought you were gonna throw up for a minute there, mate. Are you sure you're alright to play? You don't look so hot.”

“We both know that's not true,” James muttered, but his heart wasn't in it. He allowed himself another blink, and then set his shoulders back. “Are we the last ones out?” 

“Yeah.” Paul looked unsure, lingering at the door. “I told the team I'd wait for you, though they weren't keen on leaving. James, nobody would mind if—”

“We better get a move on then,” James said, striding past Paul, broom held tightly at his side. He managed a cheery grin as he slipped through the door. “Can't leave my adoring masses waiting, can I?” 

“Cocky shit,” Paul grumbled, but James could hear the fondness there, and the relief too. 

Outside, the crowds were roaring. The pitch glimmered green, and there were sparks in the sky. It was cold, but not wet, so conditions were good, but privately James hoped it would grow colder, or start to rain, if only to wake him up a bit. James steeled himself and joined the line of his teammates, receiving several back slaps and a few murmured greetings. He ignored the looks of concern. 

Out on the pitch, the Falcon’s climbed onto their brooms, and the crowd roared even louder. 

James took to the sky when the whistle blew, grinning as his name was announced almost immediately by the Commentator. He weaved through the other players and kept his eye on the Quaffle, jumping from hand to hand. He didn't blink. Callum caught the Quaffle. He didn't blink. The Quaffle soared towards him. He didn't blink. The Quaffle—

“And Potter misses the catch! Gobbler takes the Quaffle, who passes to Aldering, who passes to—”

James grit his teeth. He'd blinked for what felt like a second, but it must have been for longer than that. James flattened himself against the broom and sped past Callum’s confused face, following Alice’s lead. She was a good Chaser, good at thinking up plays, and James really had to blink, but he couldn't, not when the other team was about to score—

“And that's 10-0 to the Falmouth Falcons!” 

James wobbled on his broom. Fuck, he'd blinked. Alice swooped over, mouthing something, but James shook his head and she sped away again. The Quaffle was on the move, and he followed it well enough; he even managed to duck a Bludger before Paul had to get involved, but James couldn't actually get anywhere near the Quaffle. 

“James!” Callum shouted, soaring around him. “Play Three!” 

They usually decided that without talking, but James was glad someone had decided to tell him verbally. It was unlikely he’d have been able to pick up any cues. He blinked, and Callum was across the pitch.

“Potter’s one of the youngest to rise through the ranks of popular Quidditch Teams in such a short time, but he doesn't seem to be doing so well this game. That's another play he's missed, and a pass—oh! And a foul! That's a foul by Appleby Arrows Chaser, James Potter!”

James dragged his eyes open to find one of the Falcon’s swearing at him. Their brooms were tangled, the bristles roughly shoved together. James could only guess that he'd rammed into the other guy, but for the life of him he couldn't remember it happening. His heart dropped, his stomach churning; this was dangerous. He shouldn’t be up in the air like this, not with other people around that could get hurt. 

“Sorry, fuck, sorry,” James said, wrenching his broom away. He didn't feel bad, or sick, but he just couldn't keep his eyes open. The ref zoomed towards them, blowing the whistle as the Falcon Chaser kept on yelling. 

“Penalty to the Falmouth Falcons! Taken by Aldering, and yes, he's scored! That's 40-10 to the Falmouth Falcons.”

Time felt like treacle. James sucked in a breath, angling his broom towards the outside of the pitch, where he’d hopefully do less damage. When had they scored? When had the other team scored again? Fuck, his brain felt like it was full of fog. 

Gritting his teeth, James held on tight to his broom. He could see, almost impossibly, a flicker of blue in the crowd that he knew to be Teddy. His parents were there too, and Albus, watching this train wreck, and James didn't know what to do. His dad was there, and Teddy was there, and they were probably worried because even _James_ was worried in a way he’d been trying not to focus on lately. 

“And is that a—yes, that's Appleby Arrows Captain, Emma Clearwater, calling for a time out. Wonder if they'll call in for a Reserve Chaser, since something seems to be up with Potter, or maybe his broom.”

James jerked, then angled his broom for the pitch automatically. His team was already there, gathered near the posts, and as he drew closer he could see Emma’s pissed off expression grow clearer. 

The word ‘sorry’ made it halfway out of James’s mouth, but before he reached the ground, he made a mistake that he couldn't quite apologise for. 

James blinked. Even as the world went dark and a soft, dreamless sleep cocooned him, James knew that this blink was going to last for a long time.


	2. Spinning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James was sleeping now, but Teddy couldn't dredge up the fondness he usually felt at finding him this way. Not when James wouldn't wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! 
> 
> New chapter, same warnings! Just, you know, Teddy coming to terms with things, which means angst and comfort and swearing, lots of swearing I think. 
> 
> Happy reading! <3

TWO

THE room felt like a powder keg waiting to erupt. Bright whispering spells surrounded the hospital bed, illuminating James’s still, peaceful face. Teddy remained rooted to the spot, unable to look away, but his heart juddered as though it was already through the roof, taking flight.

Finding James asleep was commonplace, even more so these days. It was a thrill, to know that James trusted him enough to fall asleep on his shoulder, on his chest, on his lap. It was nice, to come home and see him sprawled out on any available surface, bundled up and snoring. 

James was sleeping now, but Teddy couldn't dredge up the fondness he usually felt at finding him this way. Not when James wouldn't wake up. 

“What happened?” Harry asked, for the thousandth time. His hair stuck up from where he'd tugged on it, and his face was flushed with anger, his eyes glinting with fear. “What's wrong with him?” 

“We don't know,” said Healer Matthews shortly, taking charge from the foot of the bed. “I promise, Mr Potter, we’re doing everything we can to determine the cause of your son's condition.”

Teddy stayed glued to the wall, taking up scant space in the corner of the room. The chaos that had followed them off the Quidditch Pitch had faded into tense stillness; only the Healers moved, dragging their spells along with them. If Teddy closed his eyes, he could still see the match. He could see the way James hovered throughout the match, rigid as anything, before suddenly swerving or dipping in the air. He could see the tired way he slumped on his broom. He saw the foul, the missed catches, the unnerving stillness, and the finality of the moment when James flew towards the ground, towards his pissed off teammates, and fell. 

Luckily, he hadn't fallen far. But the fact was that he hadn't gotten straight back up, had barely breathed on the ground, and it had thrown the stands into chaos. But it had thrown Teddy’s mind into quiet, still dread. 

Teddy kept his eyes open. He didn't want to see all that again, and he didn't want to miss the moment James opened his eyes too. Any minute now. 

“What do we do?” Ginny asked, tugging Harry back towards Teddy. It was just the three of them; everyone else had been shunted out into the hall, and Teddy had flat-out refused to move, although he didn't remember speaking, leaving the three of them in oppressive silence. 

“Just—” Healer Matthews began, but she stopped speaking abruptly. One of the spells had started to wail, collecting around James’s chest in a storm of red, before sliding down to his right hand. 

The door opened, and two more Healers came in. They crowded the bed as the spell continued to wail, muttering and casting charms. 

“What does that mean?” Harry demanded. “Is he alright?”

“Harry,” Teddy said, clearing his throat when the word barely came out. He put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezed, his heart aching when Harry turned to him with a lost expression. Harry was a lodestone, North, never lost. 

“It'll be alright,” Ginny said softly. 

Teddy nodded. “Ginny’s always right. They'll tell us when they know something, yeah?”

And they did, but Teddy sort of wished they knew nothing again.

“A Curse,” Harry repeated, with one hand resting on the back of Albus’s neck. Not everyone had been at the match this time; it was usually a family event, but just Teddy, Albus, Ginny, Harry and Rose had been able to go. Rose had Flooed home to tell her parents what had happened, so the news would be well-spread soon, and all sorts of pies and blankets would find their way in, courtesy of Molly. 

“I'm afraid so,” Healer Matthews said, consulting her clipboard. “We have very little information to go on, but I'll do my best to explain.”

On the bed, James slept on, blissfully unaware of all the trouble he was causing. It was unlike James, not to have something to say. 

“Please do,” Ginny said, reaching out to hold James’s hand. Teddy wanted to do the same, but he still couldn't move from the corner. His feet had given up on him. 

“It's not a Curse we know much about,” Healer Matthews said reluctantly. “But we’re relatively sure of its origin. It is commonly referred to as the Curse of Gormlaith Gaunt.” 

“Gaunt,” Harry said, growing ashen. “That's not a name I want to hear associated with my son.”

Teddy didn't quite understand what that meant, and from the silence in the rest of the room, neither did anybody else. Albus shifted under Harry’s grip, but when Teddy glanced at him, he was staring woodenly at the bed.

Healer Matthews nodded grimly. “Quite understandable, Mr Potter, but this was another Gaunt, from many years ago, and she is long since dead. Put quite simply, the Curse puts people into an enchanted slumber.”

Teddy suddenly felt very cold. On the bed, James did not move. 

“That's…” Harry began, before frowning. “Very Sleeping Beauty. I thought Wizards didn't know many Muggle fairy tales?” 

Healer Matthews blinked. “The Curse was first used by Gormlaith Gaunt on the founders of Ilvermorny, James Steward, and his wife, Isolt. I don't know what you mean by Muggle Fairy Tales, Mr Potter, but I can assure you that there is nothing beautiful about this Curse.”

“Yeah, we get that, but how do we fix it?” Albus snapped, glaring up at the Healer. Harry tightened his grip on the back of Albus’s neck, but said nothing. Teddy could see a change in his face, in his eyes, but couldn't work out what it meant.

“Isolt and James broke free from their enchanted slumber when they heard the desperate cries of their children, but it was known to be an incredibly powerful, unbreakable Curse. There haven't been any recorded cases since.” Sensing the change in the room, Healer Matthews added hastily, “I'm afraid we don't have a solution just yet, but rest assured, we will do our best to find one.

“And if we don't, he just… sleeps? Forever?” Albus stared, aghast, at the bed. Harry knelt down hurriedly and whispered to him, pulling him into a hug that Albus didn't seem to feel. Ginny and Healer Matthews exchanged a short nod, excusing her from the room.

“Who Cursed him?” 

Healer Matthews paused on her way to the door. Teddy was surprised to find that he had asked the question. His voice didn't sound like his voice, far too rough and almost inaudible. But the question was important. 

“That would be James himself,” Healer Matthews explained, after a moment’s hesitation that drew all of their attention. “Curses are dark charms at heart, as I'm sure you're aware, and sometimes this darkness can come from the heart. It is not a blood malediction, but it has similar qualities, in that it lies dormant within some Wizards until the right circumstances emerge, and activate it. We suspect it has something to do with the names, James and Isolt, first said in the Curse, which would make sense in this case, but as I said… we simply don't know enough.”

This time, when Healer Matthews moved to leave, nobody stopped her.

*

Teddy opened the door to his flat, dead on his feet. There was no room in the hospital for the entire family, and Ginny had taken the cot by James’s bed while Harry took the Floo straight to Ron and Hermione’s house. Teddy had wanted to stay, but one look at Albus’s broken expression had him wrapping coats around them both and leading the way to the Ground Floor.

“I could have stayed in the waiting room,” Albus insisted, following Teddy inside. He barged past and then stopped in the hallway. The door slammed shut and locked with a simple spell, giving Teddy the perfect surface to sag against. 

“That won't help anybody,” Teddy said, rubbing his eyes. “You'd just be tired and in pain, and James wouldn't want that.” When he looked up, Albus had hunched his shoulders, staring at his shoes with a scrunched up expression. “Albus, hey.”

“Don't,” Albus growled, but he didn't move. 

“He's going to be fine. He's not going to get any worse there,” Teddy said, stepping closer. “He's in a hospital bed, surrounded by Healers and your mum. Do you honestly think anything will happen with her there?”

Albus relaxed minutely, a small smile twisting his mouth. “A Curse wouldn't dare act up around mum.” His smile fell. “He shouldn't be in the hospital in the first place. He should've won the game and come home to gloat about it. Teddy… Teddy, what if he doesn't wake up?” 

“He will,” Teddy said fiercely, not letting the words sink much further. He reached out and pulled Albus into a hug, crushing him close as they both took shaky breaths. “He will, Al. He's going to be fine. Your dad will find out more about this Curse, and we’ll figure out a way to break it, okay? He's going to be fine.” 

Albus nodded, hair brushing Teddy’s chin. He smelled of baby powder, which Teddy had always thought was odd and a little endearing, and he felt small in Teddy’s arms. But he was holding Teddy up, too.

They stayed like that a little longer before Teddy directed him to the shower, to wash the day off. He made sandwiches, too strung out for anything else, and set up the bed in the living room for Albus. 

It took a long time to get to sleep that night. Teddy lay in bed, on top of the covers, and stared unseeingly at the ceiling. James had been fine just yesterday, laughing in Teddy’s kitchen… but that was the thing, wasn't it? James hadn't been fine. And Teddy should have noticed. 

He _had_ noticed that James was more tired lately. James was usually ebullient, quick to laugh and often found mid-motion, his hands tracing beautiful shapes in the air as he wove stories and silly jokes into being. Teddy sometimes felt static, like a lump of rock with nothing precious at the centre, but James had a way of cracking people open and seeing the shine. 

That had faded recently. He was still James, still bright and funny, but he was slower. Slower and around less. Teddy thought of all the times he'd found James asleep on a sofa or an armchair lately, and he could have kicked himself. He thought of all the missed lunches, and Freddie’s glower, and Scorpius’s confusion, and he felt sick. Why didn't he say anything? Why didn't he ask? He'd mentioned it a few times, yeah, but James had brushed it off, and Teddy hadn't pushed. 

Pressure rose behind Teddy’s eyes. It was hard to push it back, so he gave in after a minute, letting the tears fall. 

“I can hear you brooding,” Albus said, staggering into the room, barely visible in the dark. Teddy swore and shot upright, hand halfway to his wand before he registered Albus’s unimpressed expression. He heaved a breath, feeling his pulse thudding in his wrists.

“Fuck, Al.” He wipes his eyes and said, “Don't do that.”

“Don't brood then,” Albus said, but he looked a little guilty. He watched Teddy until he waved a hand, wiping the last of his tears away. 

“You okay?” 

“Fine,” Teddy said, not quite making eye-contact. He wasn’t ashamed, but he wanted to hold it together for Albus. 

Albus took a seat in Teddy's desk chair and began to roll it back and forth with his feet, the leather squeaking beneath borrowed pajama bottoms. Just as Teddy was about to ask if he was alright, Albus started talking. 

“I've been thinking. Something's weird about this whole thing. Did you hear what dad said, when the Healer told us what the Curse did?” 

Teddy sat up properly, leaning back against the cushions with a tired sigh. “I don't know, Al. I wasn't paying much attention to anything but James.” 

Albus snorted. “Nice to know that nothing's changed that much, then.” 

At Teddy’s glare, Albus rolled his eyes and went on. “He said the Curse sounded very Sleeping Beauty, and he was talking about Muggle fairy tales. Then he went quiet when Healer Matthews said they had no idea how to break it.”

“We all went quiet,” Teddy said, swallowing at the reminder.

“Yeah, but I think Dad felt differently. I think he went quiet because he didn't agree with them.”

“You think he might know something?” 

“I think _I_ might know something,” Albus admitted, stopping the chair with another squeak. “Mum used to read us Beedle the Bard before bed, but dad also read us Muggle fairy tales, you know? He said he wanted to raise us with both bits of the world. James didn't like many of them, and Lily only liked Cinderella.” Albus blushed a bit. “I still have the book, and I think I remember Sleeping Beauty.”

Teddy smirked, but it was nothing but a paltry attempt at normalcy. “I promise not to tell James when he wakes up.”

Albus flipped him off, still blushing. “Shut up.”

“How does the story go, then? And why does it matter?” 

“It was about a princess, a baby princess.” Albus cleared his throat awkwardly. “She was cursed by a dark fairy when she was little. The dark fairy said she would prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and die, but some good fairies changed it, so that she'd fall asleep instead. An enchanted sleep, for hundreds of years.” 

Teddy’s back went rigid. He made eye contact with Albus, who swallowed and continued, voice smaller but more insistent. 

“It worked. When she was eighteen, the princess found a spinning wheel in the tallest tower of her castle, and pricked her finger. She fell into a deep sleep. Nobody could wake her, and the fairies put the rest of the Kingdom to sleep too.” 

“Is that the end of the story?” Teddy asked sharply. 

“No. The fairies added, like, a loophole. Or something.” Albus wrinkled his nose. “A prince found her, years later, and he thought she was so beautiful that he had to kiss her, and she woke up. Only true love’s kiss could wake the princess, see.”

The bottom dropped out of Teddy’s stomach. He swallowed thickly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Albus…”

“It's true,” Albus said quickly. “I’m not making it up. And it makes sense, doesn't it? Wizards don't pay any attention to Muggles or their stories, so how would they know how to fix this if the answer was in the story of Sleeping Beauty? And the Healer said that Gormlaith Gaunt cast the Curse on James Steward and his wife, Isolt. She also said the names had something to do with it, and there's a pretty obvious link there. They had two kids, right? They woke up when they heard the kids crying. So true love woke them up, right?” 

“That’s a stretch,” Teddy said, shaking his head. “A really big stretch. Gaunt doesn't sound like someone to take a Muggle children’s tale and turn it into a dark Curse. Dark Wizards despise Muggles, and back then it was even worse. You seriously think she used Muggles as inspiration?” 

“Maybe she was smart,” Albus said, his glare darkening. “Maybe she knew nobody would think to look there for a Counter-Curse, especially if her name was attached to it. Or maybe she didn't even create the Curse, she just found it and decided to take credit for it. Does _that_ sound like something a Dark Wizard would do?” 

Teddy stayed silent. 

“Dad read those stories to me when I was younger, and he went quiet after he asked about Sleeping Beauty,” Albus reminded him. “He's thinking the same thing. If you don't trust me for whatever reason, then trust him.” 

“It's not about trust, Albus,” Teddy refuted gently, trying desperately to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. “I trust you. But it's been a really long day, and we can't do anything right now anyway. It's not that I don't believe you, I just think we need to think about this carefully. We can't go around asking people to line up and kiss James while he's unconscious, can we?” 

“We wouldn't need a line and you know it,” Albus snapped. He stood and stormed out of the room before Teddy could respond. 

It was too late to think about what that might mean, although Teddy had no doubts that he'd be remaining awake for the rest of the night. Teddy dropped back against the covers and dug his palms into his eyes, wishing desperately that it was yesterday, and he had time to fix this, time to ask James what was wrong, and how he could help.

*

“Wake up.”

Teddy flung the book at Albus. It landed with a soft thumb on his stomach. Albus grunted and flailed a bit, glaring hazily around for his attacker. Teddy watched him fight his way back to the waking world with a flash of amusement. 

“What do you want?” Albus said, glowering at him through his thick, sleep-stuck lashes. “If you're here for any more ideas, you can bugger off. You shot down my only good one last night.” 

Teddy rolled his eyes, though he felt a bit bad. “I didn't shoot it down, I postponed it. Anyway, is that how you talk to your favourite god brother, after he's made you breakfast and researched your fairy tale for you?” 

Albus stilled. His fingers drifted to the book, which had fallen open in his lap. To the story of Cinderella, unfortunately, but it was enough to get the point across. 

“Your dad’s in the kitchen,” Teddy said, softer. “He brought that over this morning, early, and he agrees with you. He’s got some ideas, and I have eggs on toast, which is just as good.”

He brushed a hand over Albus’s messy hair, smiling when he ducked his head, determined not to make eye contact. 

“See you in the kitchen. Wear pants, at least, please.”

Albus muttered, “I’m not James.”

James did like to walk around in almost nothing. Teddy stifled a laugh as he made his way back into the kitchen, where Harry was sat at the table, pouring over files and books. 

“Is he okay?” Harry asked, lifting his head when Teddy took a seat. 

“Seems okay. I think he's excited you're here.”

Harry smiled, eyes soft with affection. “What about you? Are you okay?” 

“You've asked me that already, Harry.”

“I don't think that question has a limit, but suit yourself. Just know I'm here.” Harry brightened slightly as footsteps filled the kitchen. “There you are, Al. Nice hair. Teddy made eggs.”

“Only reason I'm up this early,” Albus said blithely, but he fooled nobody. He sat and immediately started poking at several files, rather than the breakfast in front of him. “Scorpius is coming over in a bit, if that's okay?”

“Yeah, ‘course, you've never asked before though.” Teddy pushed a cup of tea across the table. “Don't start being weird just because your brother is temporarily unavailable. No coffee, I'm afraid, but drink up. Your dad has one hell of a story for you. It might sound familiar.”

Albus jerked his head up, hand halfway to the tea. “Sleeping Beauty?” 

Harry nodded, fiddling with the edge of a file. “It's too similar not to be connected. Hermione agrees with me, and I’ve learned to trust her judgement, at least when it comes to research. We spent all night looking for every version of the story we could find, and some of them are… a bit darker than others, but Teddy told me what you said, about true love’s kiss.”

Albus picked up his fork and poked his eggs to distract from his blush, but Teddy still saw it. He smiled fondly, sipping his drink so that Albus wouldn't see and go on the defensive. 

“I mean, that’s what all the stories say, right? That an act of true love will break the spell, or something.”

“Or something,” Harry teased, briefly unencumbered by worry. 

“It’s a Curse though,” Teddy added, still not convinced. “Dark magic, right? I can’t imagine it would have such an easy, lovely fix.”

Albus scowled at his plate at the reminder. Teddy would have felt bad, but they were looking for answers. He hadn't made it to Auror status by blindly following leads; sometimes that was the only option, but mostly it took dedicated thought, a sharp eye, and a critical nature, at least of your own ideas. 

“That depends on how you view love, and the caster of the Curse,” Harry said, surprising them both. “Hermione explained it to me in a lot longer words, but I think the gist is that Gormlaith Gaunt never would have considered love as a Counter-Curse because she was bitter, angry, and arrogant, and she didn't think love was powerful enough to break her magic. There's not much evidence to say she created it, but if she did, she was selective with what she believed. She likely took the Curse from Sleeping Beauty, but dismissed the rest as a pile of shit.”

“How's it cropped up here, then?” Teddy said, leaning forward over the table. “Healer Matthews seems to think James cursed himself. She was talking about dark hearts, but that's not James.” 

Harry scoffed. “No, it's not. I do think he might have Cursed himself, though. If it's passed down through names, which Hermione says is uncommon but very possible, then it could have been sitting, dormant, inside him, for all his life. Until he did something to bring it alive.”

“So we have to find out what he did.” Albus scooped up a bit of toast and bit down, frowning. “Go Auror, or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Harry agreed, with another one of those teasing smiles. “Hermione’s still researching, and I imagine everyone will want to help once they hear about this. What about you, Ted?”

“Of course I want to help,” Teddy snapped, gripping his mug tightly. 

“I meant,” Harry said, with a soothing look, “do you believe me and Al, about how to break the Curse? About it being related to Sleeping Beauty?”

It wasn't that he didn't believe them. It was that he didn't want to believe them. Yes, it was one step closer to an answer if they were right, but it was an answer Teddy didn't like. It would mean facing things while James slept on, and that was never how he'd imagined it in his head. 

“Yeah, I think so,” Teddy said, before Albus could grow too impatient and launch a few eggs his way. “What did you mean, though, when you said it depends on how you view love?”

Harry reached up and tapped his scar. “You said love was an easy answer, but Dark Wizards always underestimate love. They think it's weak. Dumbledore said it was the most powerful, oldest sort of magic in the world. The strongest magic there is. He never said it was easy, though.”

Teddy looked down at his tea, struck silent. He recalled the stories of the Chosen One, whispered in the corridors of Hogwarts, and then told firmly to him at home, with no embellishments, no dramatics or white lies. There was a difference between the awestruck words of classmates, and the careful, complete truth. There was more pain in the latter.

The cold hard truth was that Lily Potter had loved her son enough to die protecting him, and that love had served as a powerful shield, protection that lasted a lifetime. Equally as awful was the fact that her son had followed in her footsteps years later, dying for the people he loved and almost staying that way. But he had lived where she had not, _because_ she had not, and that was partly what made magic like that so very strong. 

Tom Riddle had not put much stock in that kind of magic, and ultimately it had been his downfall. 

Teddy still didn't want to admit that it could be right; that opened all sorts of doors that he’d been locking for a long time, but ignoring the truth meant that James suffered for it. 

“So if all that’s true, what do we need to do to wake James up?” Teddy asked, tapping the side of his mug thoughtfully. “If it was love, surely he should be awake by now. Ginny kissed his head, and everyone told him they loved him before they left. Isolt and James woke when they heard their children crying.”

“That’s where I’m stuck,” Harry said, sighing so harshly that the files lifted on the breeze of his breath. Albus prodded his eggs viciously, his fork clanking against the plate. 

“Maybe we could call Bill.”

“On a job in Cairo,” Harry said, before his eyebrows shot up. “But Fleur’s not. She was at work, but she should be at home by now.”

“She may not officially be a Curse-Breaker, but she probably knows more than us.” Teddy pulled one of the files towards him, noting the regimented script, and realised that it was actually folders full of printed texts, likely from Hermione’s computer. “You go and see if she’s free, and we’ll start trying to piece together when this started. I don't know what information we’ll need, but it never hurts to be thorough.”

“He had to have been feeling bad for a while,” Albus said, nodding. “Nothing happened on the pitch that we saw, no spindles or spinning wheels, or whatever. And he’s been tired lately, more than usual, so it must have started a while ago.”

The guilt and pain in Albus’s voice was familiar. Teddy had sat with the same feelings all night in his gut, listening to his own voice go round and round in his head, accusing him of not helping, not doing enough.

“It’s not your fault, Al,” Harry said, standing up. “It’s not James’s either, but when he’s awake, we’re going to have a word with him about not keeping this sort of stuff to himself, okay? It's not fair on anybody, let alone him.” 

He pressed a kiss to Albus’s hair, and then one to Teddy’s too, on the way out of the kitchen. “It's not your fault either, Ted.”

Teddy swallowed thickly, waving Harry away. 

“I’ll Floo to Shell Cottage, and after I’ll see if we can get the Appleby Arrows to talk to us for a bit. I imagine they’ll want to know how he’s doing anyway.”

Harry’s voice caught briefly at the end. Teddy watched him, but Harry had his back to the room as he strode away, and he only caught a fleeting glance of a reassuring smile as he stepped into green flames. 

“He’s gonna snap,” Albus said. Teddy turned to find him watching the fire too, a pensive look in place. “He does this. Mum says he bottles it all up like a useless pillock, eventually explodes, and then mopes around for ages because he hurt everyone’s feelings when he started yelling.”

“Sounds like someone else I know.”

Albus scowled at him. “Mum says that too. Shut up and read your story, the one I _already_ read to you last night, and I’ll say I told you so later.”

*

Teddy hadn’t spent much time in Quidditch Locker Rooms, but he was sure they were more lively places than this, usually. He rapped on the open door and stepped inside, a rucksack slung over his shoulder, his wand behind his ear. He’d left Albus and Scorpius on his sofa, talking quietly and holding hands in that sweet, unexpected way that made them both seem much gentler than they probably were. Scorpius had squeezed him in a tentative hug before he could leave, and now Teddy had a hint of expensive sea-salt cologne clinging to his jacket collar like a stowaway.

“Anyone home?” Teddy called, only to stagger sideways when a spell hit him in the side. It didn't hurt or stun him, but it hit with the force of a strong wind, throwing Teddy into a wall. He had his wand out and pointed at his attacker before he’d even caught his breath. 

“I swore to fucking Circe, if one more reporter came through those doors I’d kill them, but did you listen?” Emma Clearwater stood there, hands on her hips, five foot three inches of pure, incandescent rage. “Don't you have anything better to do than piss me off, you vulture?”

“I’m not a reporter,” Teddy said, fighting to keep his voice calm as he lowered his wand slightly. “I’m an Auror. Teddy Lupin.”

Another figure popped out of a doorway, wide eyes finding Teddy immediately. Teddy thought it might have been one of the other Chaser’s, Callum something. 

“Shit, Emma! That’s James’s blue-haired boy.”

Teddy let his wand arm fall in shock, but miraculously kept a grip on his wand. 

Emma looked him up and down, her frown fading. “Oh. You don't look very blue, though.”

Teddy raised an eyebrow. It was easy to let his hair fade from mousy brown to bright, electric blue. 

“That’s really, really cool, oh my Merlin,” Callum enthused. “Ow!”

He disappeared from view, jerked back into the room, where lots of muttering appeared to be occurring. 

“Sorry about the attack,” Emma said, sounding suddenly exhausted. “We’ve been getting reporters coming in all starry-eyed since yesterday, gushing about how good James was and how much he’ll be missed, like he’s gone for good.” 

Teddy gripped his wand tightly, his knuckles growing white around the hilt. James wasn’t gone. He wasn’t going anywhere. He was sleeping, sure, but that was it. He was going to wake up any day now. 

“You’re here about James, I take it? Mrs Potter Floo-called this morning and told us he was okay, but if you’ve got news, we’re all ears.”

“I have some news, but mostly I’ve got questions,” Teddy said. He stowed his wand away and straightened up, one hand on the strap of his bag. “I’ll need to talk to everyone though.”

Nobody seemed too eager to talk inside the room. Teddy took in the slumped, squabbling inhabitants and sighed, putting his bag down on a bench while Emma clapped her hands to get their attention. He had a feeling it was going to be a long day. 

“Guys, this is Teddy Lupin. He’s James’s blue-haired boy, an Auror.”

“Is that really what he calls me?” Teddy blurted out. He was not sure if he should feel flustered by that or not. “Blue-haired boy?”

“That’s what we call you,” Callum said, leaning against a locker with a cheery grin. “James’s blue-haired boy. You should see how red he gets when he hears it.”

“They noticed you in the stands for every match,” Emma explained quietly. Then she cleared her throat and said, much louder, “This is Callum Edgeworth, and that’s Alice Macintyre, both James’s fellow Chasers. Paul Cobbler and Edgar Perkin’s, our Beaters, Farha Mansoor, our Seeker, and me, the Keeper and Team Captain, Emma Clearwater.”

Callum was blinking at Perkin’s. “Your first name is Edgar?”

“Not to you, it’s not,” Perkin’s said darkly. 

There was a round of snickering that Teddy was sad to interrupt. 

“I don't want to take up a lot of your time, but I need to ask a few questions. We think we know what kind of Curse is keeping James asleep, but if it is this one, then there’s no known Counter-Curse.”

Paul went deathly white. “Shit.”

Emma sat heavily on one of the benches. Teddy swallowed several times before he could get any other words out. 

“We’re working on it. We’ve never let James get away with being a lazy shit before this happened, and I’m not about to start now.” Teddy grinned when several watery laughs erupted. “Point is, don't give up. Hermione Granger was the brightest witch of her age, still is, and she’s working on developing a Counter-Curse. But to do that, we need as much information as possible about how it happened.”

Emma set her spine, blue eyes fixed firmly on him. “Ask away, Lupin. What do you want to know?”

Almost an hour later, Teddy emerged from the locker room with pages of notes and a headache. Paul followed him out, hands in his pockets; he’d been the most quiet by far, but he also had the most information. 

“I noticed,” Paul said, as the door swung shut behind them. “I tried to talk to him about it, but he’s a shifty bugger when he wants to be. Kept distracting me and avoiding the question.”

“Yeah, he’s an idiot like that.” Teddy shook his head, helpless affection clutching his heart. “If he’s got so much as a sniffle, he’s all over you, whining until you feed him chocolate, but when something’s actually wrong, you’ve got as much chance of helping him as McGonagall does of retiring.”

Paul laughed loudly, a braying sound that wasn’t as irritating today as it probably could be. “That’s James alright. You know, he talks about you a lot. Always saying Teddy this and Teddy that, talking about how proud he is of your Auror work, and worrying whenever you’re away on a job.”

That was news to Teddy. “He worries about me?”

“Like you’d never believe.” Paul chuckled, shaking his head. “You missed your check-in one time, and we practically had to trap him in a locker to get him to stay put. I think he was going to chase you down, destroy whatever was keeping you away, and then rip you a new one.”

Teddy snorted a laugh, but he felt anything but happy. James was a weird one; you knew he cared, because he told you every day and showed you with every action, but all the scared, painful parts of caring were done in private. Teddy never knew the depths of his feelings before, but he was beginning to get it now. 

“I’m just saying,” Paul carried on, clapping Teddy on the shoulder. “My fiancé, Jess, is a Muggleborn, and she’s told me a few things about Muggle stories. There’s one I’m thinking of that sounds kinda familiar.”

Teddy sucked in a breath and went still. 

Paul nodded, sharp. “Thought so. I don't know how you feel, so I don't know if I'm right about it being you. But I think it might be a good idea to think about how he feels, or felt, before all this happened. And really think about it. Because if you’re anything like him, you might do that self-deprecating shit where you convince yourself it’s not possible for him to feel anything for you, and that won’t help anybody in the end. It especially won't help James. So keep it in mind, yeah?”

Teddy nodded, somewhat numb, and Paul patted him on the back before heading back into the locker room. Teddy stood in the bright sunlight and blinked for a bit, before resigning himself to Apparating back to his flat, where he sincerely hoped nothing unsavoury was happening on his sofa. 

Albus was going to be so smug when Teddy told him everything he’d learned; Teddy didn't want to deal with afterglow smugness on top of that.

*

Lily and Hugo were loitering on Teddy’s doorstep when Teddy popped into the block of flats. He found two wands aimed at him in record time, and tipped an eyebrow up, reluctantly impressed.

“Nice reflexes,” Teddy said. “Maybe aim them away from me, though.”

“Don't give me that.” Lily glared at him so harshly that Teddy felt his skin prickle a bit, as though his body was warning him of the danger to come. She didn't put her wand down. 

“James didn't come back to the flat last night, and when we Flooed this morning to find out what was going on, Ginny she told us what happened, but Lily didn't know about it and now she’s on the warpath,” Hugo rambled, shoving his wand in his pocket quickly. He bit his lip at Lily’s glare, but didn't apologise.

Teddy sighed deeply, pinching his nose. Then he swept forward before Lily could react and kissed her forehead quickly. He could feel her shaking, and it sent a pang through his heart. 

“Someone should have told you sooner, but it happened quickly, and nobody was in any state to do much more than stand around and wait for news. I think everyone went to sleep straight after, anyway. But someone still should have told you.” 

“You’re damn right,” Lily snapped, but she put her wand back in her pocket, wrapping Teddy in a quick hug. “Tell me everything?”

Inside, Teddy was marginally surprised to find the living room empty, until a note on the kettle informed him that the Malfoy Library might have something useful, and Albus would be back around seven, Scorpius no doubt in tow. He explained the match and the Curse as he made tea, and then spread his findings out on the table, where Hugo began to peruse them, a troubled look on his face. 

“There's lots of versions of Sleeping Beauty,” Hugo said. “In one, she doesn't wake up until she's giving birth.”

Teddy made a disgusted sound, recoiling at the implications. 

“Well,” Lily said delicately, “I don't think we have to worry about that being the answer, but that's nice to know, Hugo, thanks.”

“Mmm, I prefer the true love’s kiss story myself,” Hugo agreed.

“So if Dad and Albus are right, then we have to find James’s true love,” Lily said, narrowing her eyes at the table. “Well, that’s easy.”

“It might not be that simple,” Hugo murmured, before Teddy could use his shaking hands to throw the entire teapot at the wall. “We don't know the parameters of the spell. We need more information. We need to know when it occurred, how it occurred, and what kind of love ‘true love’ encompasses.”

“Harry seemed to think it meant romantic,” Teddy said, although he didn't want to say anything. “That’s what happened in Sleeping Beauty, although the Gormlaith Gaunt Curse was broken when Isolt and James heard the desperate cries of their children, which doesn't point to romance.”

Lily kept quiet, but Teddy could feel her eyes on the back of his neck. He was glad, then, that he hadn't told her what Paul had said. 

“The Appleby Arrows seem to think it started a fair few weeks ago,” Hugo said, skimming through Teddy’s messy notes. “They have a date here, of when… Paul? When Paul first noticed James was out of sorts.”

“He said he looked exhausted, and wasn’t acting like himself, but he’d been fine the day before,” Lily read aloud. “Where was he, that day? Did he go to work from home?”

“Paul seemed to think so.”

“So let’s go!” Lily sprang from her chair, knocking it back. “Come on, we can search James’s flat, see if we can retrace his steps. Look for spinning wheels, or whatever.”

Hugo frowned. “Wait a minute. Something--likely James--activated the Curse, but if it was lying dormant within him for that long, then it would need time to wake up, as it were.”

Lily sat back down again, clearly frustrated. “So, what? We need to find out where he was the whole week before Paul’s date?”

“Just the day before, I think,” Hugo said. “Although to be safe, we should try and retrace his steps that week. The more information we have, the better. But it makes sense for a night of sleep to wake up this kind of Curse, don't you think?”

Teddy’s brain ticked over the information. He stopped spooning sugar into his tea and sighed, shoulders slumping as he braced himself on the counter. He knew exactly where James had been the day before Paul’s date, but he didn't want to say it. 

And then he thought of James, lying still and asleep in his bed, and he turned to face them with resolution. 

“He was here,” Teddy said. “I left early in the morning when he was still asleep and came home from work at about five that day, I think, and I don't think anything happened when I was here. James would have complained and talked about it non-stop if it had.”

Lily’s intense stare burned into him. Teddy met her gaze steadily, although his hands were still shaking. 

“Perfect,” Hugo said sweetly, hopping up from the table. “Lovely! That’s a start! We can retrace his steps here, and find out what happened that made this all start…”

Hugo’s voice tailed off as he left the kitchen, growing quieter but somehow more enthusiastic as he listed off possible spells and ideas. 

“Does he know we’re not listening?”

“Oh, he knows.” Lily rolled her eyes. “He’s using how smart he is to make it seem like he’s oblivious to the tension. He plays up his social awkwardness all the time, the bastard.”

Teddy stared at Hugo's retreating back until it disappeared into Teddy’s bedroom. It scared him sometimes, how much Hugo and Rose bore resemblance to _both_ of their parents. 

“I know what you’re going to say,” Teddy said, when Lily took a deep breath. 

“No, you don't, so shut up. I was going to say that this isn’t fair, and I’m sorry. You should get to do this on your own terms.”

“Does everybody know that I like James?” Teddy said, throwing his hand up. 

“No, not really.” Lily shrugged. “But it's easy to see that you care when you spend a lot of time around the both of you. It's not a bad thing, anyway. The only bad part is that James doesn't know.” 

“And he can't know because he's asleep.”

“This really fucking sucks.” 

Teddy laughed helplessly, a hand over his eyes. “Yeah. That about sums it up.” 

Lily sighed. “C’mon, before Hugo pulls your room apart.”

*

The jumper lay spread out on top of Teddy’s office desk. When they had cast a spell to retrace James’s steps yesterday, the jumper had been at the very end of the trail. A spool of deep green thread wove through the air, courtesy of their combined spellwork, and led them from the bedroom to the bathroom to the kitchen, and back into the bedroom again, at the bottom drawer of the dresser. Where the jumper had been.

“Tell me again,” Harry said, standing tall on the other side of the desk. “Slower, this time.”

“This was my dad’s jumper.” Teddy pressed a fingertip to the edge of the sleeve carefully, as though it might crumble at a harsher touch. “Gran gave it to me years ago, said she found it with some of mum’s things and that I should have it. James must have been wearing it, or holding it, the day this started.”

“And he ripped it?” Harry narrowed his eyes. 

“Not on purpose. He wears it a lot, says it’s the most comfortable thing I own, though if that's true, I don't know why he steals everything else too.” He caught Harry’s knowing look, and said, “But yeah, I think so. The thread from Hugo’s spell wrapped around the kitchen cupboards, so I think the sleeve got caught, here, look.” He flipped the sleeve in question over, showing a recently stitched line up the seam. “I wouldn't have noticed, but I was looking for it.” 

“He stitched it by hand,” Harry said. “Why not use magic?”

Teddy knew what he was doing. Harry was in Head Auror mode, throwing questions at all of Teddy’s points despite knowing the answers. Getting them to think, to close every possible loophole and confront every dead end, tie up every loose string. Teddy knew what he was doing, but he didn't appreciate it.

“It's very old, and you can only repair material like this with magic so many times before it starts to disintegrate. You have to be careful. I doubt he knows any specific fabric spells anyway.”

“And why wouldn't he do that anyway?” Harry asked, which was a stupid question, one that Teddy was going to have to answer anyway.

“Because he knew it was important to me,” Teddy said, through gritted teeth. “Because it's James, and he doesn't break things on purpose.”

“And?” 

“And because he didn't want to hurt my feelings, or upset me.” Teddy glared at him. “Are you done?” 

“Because he cares about you,” Harry corrected him, with a slightly more gentle look. “So he stitched the jumper that he accidentally ripped, and likely pricked his finger on a sewing needle at least once. You have sewing needles?” 

“Yeah, Gran gave them to me. She got tired of sewing on my buttons, said I should learn.” 

He withdrew the velvet pouch from beneath the jumper and gave it to Harry, who took it gingerly. 

“So we know what happened, and we know it happened weeks ago,” Harry said. “And even if we don't want to admit it, we know what to do.”

“Well that’s news to me. You might know what to do, but I don't, so please, fill me in.” 

Teddy stood, abandoning the jumper as he headed for his filing cabinet. He could hear his heartbeat rushing through his ears. He rifled through old files to give his hands something to do, ignoring the silence behind him. 

“Teddy,” Harry said, soft and pleading. “We both know what I’m talking about. All the signs point to this being the same story as Sleeping Beauty. And she woke with a kiss. True love’s kiss.” 

Something flickered in Teddy’s chest. Curses were supposed to be dark, painful things, and fairy tales were so often full of them. It would be nice, wouldn't it, if this was as easy as one kiss? If it ended out of love, when pain was what started it. 

It's not that he didn't believe it could be true. It was that he had been tucking it away for a really long time, this simple vast fact of loving James, and now it was out in the open because of some other force, because of something dark and ugly, a Curse. A Curse that was stealing his chance to tell James on his own, and have James tell him too.

“James and Isolt woke because of their children crying,” Teddy pointed out. “There was no kissing there.”

“No, but there was still love. And this Curse is attached to names, James’s name in particular. It's in his blood, inside him, in his magic, and it responds to him. I don't think he was thinking about his family when he activated this Curse, He directed it at someone in particular.”

“We don't know that for sure. Maybe all he needs is family around him, showing him love.” 

“We have been. We all have been. Freddie’s been there, telling terrible jokes, and Molly’s baked so much food I’m surprised the country hasn’t run out of ingredients. Arthur read him a book, Ginny hasn’t left, Albus and Lily have both been there, we’ve all been there Teddy, all of us. It’s not working. I think it’s time to try something else.” 

Teddy’s shoulders tensed. He wasn’t going to pretend that he didn’t know what Harry was talking about; that would be an insult to both of them. “You want me to kiss him. Even though he’s sleeping, and we haven't talked about it, even though this isn’t how anybody should have to do this—”

There were footsteps, quick as wit. Teddy found himself being pulled around, until he was facing Harry’s fierce expression. For a brief, terrifying moment, he thought Harry was angry at him for not doing it, for not immediately complying, for not helping his son.

“I would never, ever ask you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with,” Harry insisted. “Is that what you think? That I’d make you do this, even if you didn’t want to?” 

Teddy shook his head mutely. 

“Christ, Teddy.” Harry’s shoulders sagged. He rubbed at his nose, beneath his glasses, and then looked up at Teddy; he was taller than Harry now, although he didn’t often feel it. 

“I know you wouldn't,” Teddy said, before Harry could say anything. “I do know that. You're an arse, but you're not that bad.”

“Humorous insults aren’t going to get you out of this, Ted, but nice try.”

“It’s not that I don't want to,” Teddy said very quietly. He stared at his shoes, at the laces not quite tied right. “It's that I do.”

“But not like this,” Harry finished, patting him on the shoulder. He drew Teddy into a hug that felt as tremulous as it did steady. 

“We don't know it's me,” Teddy said, voice muffled against Harry’s shoulder. “It could be someone else.”

Harry laughed, tired and warm. “I think that would hurt more than if we’re right, so let's table that for now, yeah?” 

Drawing back, Teddy had to agree. “How… how do you know it's me? We haven't exactly talked about it. I mean, Christ, I haven't even talked to James about it yet.” 

Harry huffed, tapping him on the nose, the way he used to do when Teddy was little and saying all the wrong things, all the silly stupid snarky things. 

“I think you forget that I raised you. Sure, I had help, a lot of it, but I know you. I saw you when Krum came to stay for summer, so I know what you look like when you're in love.”

Teddy swore and punched Harry in the arm, or tried to--Harry was Head Auror for a reason, and he was sharp enough to dodge even when he was laughing himself sick. 

“Idiot,” Teddy muttered, unable to stifle a small grin. 

“Point is, I know you.” Harry pointed at the jumper, lying carefully on the desk. “You barely breathed around that jumper. You treated that like it was the most precious thing on the planet.”

“So?” 

“So, you treated it like it was the most precious thing on the planet, but we’re here because James was wearing it.” 

Teddy looked sharply at the jumper, eyebrows ticking up, and then at Harry, who just looked softly amused, a little fond. 

“You trust James, so trust him to be alright with whatever you choose to do, okay?”

*

On the fifth day of the enchanted slumber, Teddy picked a handful of flowers from the park nearby and made his way to the hospital. He was showered, dressed in his old Hufflepuff jumper, and wearing a pair of James’s socks under his trainers. He felt okay for the first time in five days. The stairs up to the right floor seemed to take a thousand years to climb.

The flowers went in an empty vase beside the bed. James, fast asleep, his chest rising steadily beneath the covers, didn't stir when Teddy took the empty seat, but Ginny did. She jerked out of a doze and snapped upright, sitting rigidly in her chair, only relaxing when she realised who had disturbed her. 

“You should go home, Ginny,” Teddy said, taking in her messy hair and tired eyes. “You can't be comfortable sleeping there.”

“Soon.” Ginny cracked a yawn, her eyes drifting to James’s face. “Harry’s upstairs, getting a drink, and then I think he's going to try and drag me out of here. He said I looked like crap, so I Jinxed him.”

There were books on the spare chair, remnants of research. Cold coffee cups, too. 

Teddy drummed his fingers against his jeans. He finally, finally, let himself look at James properly, at his closed eyes and dark lashes and cheeks that should have been flushed with happiness. His skin was paler than usual, blanketed in freckles, and his auburn hair was ruffled by the pillow. Ginny had smoothed the front of it to the side, the way James tolerated, but usually messed up once out of sight. 

Teddy missed him. He was supposed to be moving and laughing, making fun of Teddy for wearing ugly cardigans, calling him an old man, making friends with next door’s cat, going for runs in the park and looking really fit doing it, coaxing Teddy away from work to listen to music and laze about in the garden, and falling asleep on the sofa, normally, without magic, without a Curse, just snoring and drooling all over Teddy’s thigh. Fuck, James was right there, but Teddy missed him so much that it stole the breath out of his body, and he had to look away.

“I don't know if he told you, but Harry had an idea,” Teddy said eventually, but found he couldn't continue. 

“Fleur was here yesterday,” Ginny said idly, almost as though Teddy hadn't spoken. “She said we were right about the Curse, and she found where it was activated, the point of origin.”

Teddy blinked at her. “Where?” 

“Right hand, index finger. It was only a very small scratch, she said, barely a cut.”

Both big and small enough for a sewing needle. Tentatively, Teddy picked up James’s hand. His fingers were warm and folded easily with Teddy’s, fitting perfectly, a key in a lock. But they didn't hold on, didn't move. 

“Harry told me his idea,” Ginny said. “I believe it. But if it's not something you want to do, we will find another way, Teddy. We live in a world of magic, so anything’s possible.”

Teddy gave her a weak smile. Harry had spent ages drilling the same thing into him, but there was never a chance that Teddy wasn't going to do this. He was always going to do this, if it helped James. 

“I should have done it sooner,” Teddy said. He didn't specify before or after the Curse, mostly because he didn't know, but Ginny just reached over and held his hand, squeezing lightly. 

“Shut up,” she said kindly. “You want some privacy?” 

“Oh my Merlin,” Teddy muttered, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “You know that sounds creepy, doesn't it?” 

“Fine. Do you want me to stay with you?” 

Teddy glanced at her, at her kind brown eyes that were so like James’s, eyes that often filled with a protective, fierce fire that all of her kids had. Teddy thought he had some of it too. That didn't mean he wanted to be alone for this. 

“Please,” Teddy said. “Just in case.”

Just in case something went wrong. Just in case he somehow made it worse. Just in case it didn't work.

Ginny patted his hand once and then withdrew, picking up a book to give him a modicum of privacy. He snorted to himself, but she pretended not to hear, turning a page with a fascinated look. 

Teddy turned to James. He wondered if he was supposed to say something, if he was supposed to profess to loving James for a really long time, and hoping to keep loving him for a really long time. If he was supposed to talk about why he liked James, when he first realised he loved him, the bits he found attractive—James would probably like that—or if he was supposed to feel anything other than terror and hope, a strange mix that swirled inside him. 

Teddy sighed. “Couldn't have done this the easy way. What's wrong with dinner, or an evening broomstick ride?”

“Or winning a Quidditch Match,” Ginny piped up, still deeply absorbed in her book. “That always worked for me.” 

Teddy started laughing, shaking his head. “See, now I get it. It runs in the family, making big dramatic moments out of nothing.”

Teddy picked up James’s hand and pressed a kiss there, to the back of his hand, where he murmured a few words, important words. He pressed another more desperate kiss to his index finger, where the sewing needle had pricked him. And then he held his hand and kissed James on the mouth, carefully, gently, with all the love in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last update on Wednesday! <3


	3. Spun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Teddy wasn't going to come to James, then James was going to come to him, and fix whatever had broken while he wasn’t around to keep an eye on things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, done! All done! I had a lot of fun writing this, focusing more on the emotions than descriptions or world-building, so thank you for bearing with that. And thank you so much for reading and commenting, it means the world to me! 
> 
> Same warnings, just a few swears. 
> 
> Ta! <3

THREE

SOMEONE was holding James’s hand. He had been dreaming of nothing, really; a few abstract currents of colour and the odd laugh, though it sounded choked and far away. Now he heard a voice talking quietly, the kind of voice that suited any moment. He felt a weight all around his hand.

Scrunching up his face, James shifted, to a duet of sharp inhales. Which hand was being held? The left—no, the right one, lying still on starchy covers; a bed, then. He was on a bed, on his back, and his eyes were opening, and the weight was gone from his right hand, leaving him grasping at nothing.

“James?”

Mum’s face interrupted the swathe of white ceiling, though she was so pale that she blended in with the paint, her freckles stark against her gaunt expression. 

“Ugh,” James said, stretching his toes. “Oh, Merlin, cramp cramp, _fucking_ cramp!”

He kicked one leg about wildly, though it was hard when it had seized up like a rusty bolt. In the midst of his panic, Mum started laughing, big bright laughs that set him on edge a bit because they didn't sound right. He grimaced and slapped weakly at his leg, but the cramp was already fading. 

“You're supposed to be sympathetic, not laugh in my face. Cramp is no joke.”

Mum always laughed big and bright, but this next burst sounded desperately relieved, as though she hadn't thought laughter was possible today. 

“Don't swear,” she said, still laughing and wiping her eyes now, too. “You scared the shit out of us, you know that?” James opened his mouth to protest—he was definitely of age, and he could swear if he wanted to—but her soft eyes fixed on him made him swallow his words. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re awake, Jamie.”

She seized him in a hug. James let out a soft puff of air as she landed on him, gripping his shoulders. He patted her clumsily on the back with hands that felt like led, spitting out a mouthful of hair that was redder than his but just as wild. 

“M’alright, mum, I promise. What happened?”

She drew back, still wiping her eyes, and sat on the chair to the left of the bed. Which wasn’t quite right, James realised, unless she had extra long arms and an aversion to holding his left hand, for some reason, or maybe he'd imagined someone holding his hand at all—or maybe Teddy was sat on the right side of the bed, utterly silent and still, staring at James like he’d never seen him before. 

“A Curse happened,” Teddy said faintly, when their eyes met.

“Teddy,” James said, blinking rapidly. “You’re here.”

“Of course,” Teddy said, clearing his throat. He frowned then, beginning to look offended. “Where else would I be?”

That seemed to carry more weight than it usually would. James squinted at him, searching for answers in Teddy’s blue eyed, dazed as they were. 

“I’m guessing we’re at Mungo’s. You said something about a Curse? What happened?” As soon as he asked, the floodgates opened in his mind, spilling watery memories on the banks of his tired brain. James wheezed and sat bolt upright. Or tried to, anyway, but it was hard when your body was busy rebelling against you; it been quite comfortable and toasty for a while now, James’s body, and it was in no mood to get up and start moving around in the cold vertical world again. He flopped like a fish against the pillow and swore, swinging his gaze from Mum to Teddy, both of whom watched him with worry. 

“James, what's wrong?” Mum half-stood. “Do I need to call the Healer?” 

“The match,” James demanded, propping himself up on one elbow. “Who won the match? Please don't tell me we lost just because I fell off my broom.”

It took a minute before either of them could answer, and then it was only Teddy groaning unhelpfully into his hands. 

“You are exactly like your father,” Mum said, laughing again. She dragged her hand over her face and finished standing. “Speaking of your father, I’ll go and find him before he hurts someone trying to get a coffee.”

“That wasn't an answer.” James wrinkled his nose. “You don't drink coffee, either of you.”

“When you're in the hospital, we don't drink anything else.”

Mum leaned down and kissed his forehead. It felt like more than a _hello,_ or an _I’m glad you're okay._ It felt like a _thank you_ poured straight into his skin. James closed his eyes against the sensation, opening them again in time to watch as she laid a gentle hand on Teddy’s shoulder that seemed oddly bracing, and then bustled out of the room, but not without a last lingering look at James. 

“It must have been really bad this time,” James said quietly. “She looks tired. So do you.”

“She’s barely left this room while you've been out. Everyone's been coming by every day, but she hasn't left your side.”

Teddy didn't say anything else for a while. He kept looking at James, taking in every inch of him like he might need it later, like he might be quizzed on precisely how he looked. But despite his dedicated attention, his body was poised, perched on the edge of his seat like a bird about to take flight. Tension in his shoulders, the just of his jaw, the way his thighs were braced: all of it pointed to one thing. 

“Right, before you get any ideas,” James began cheerfully, narrowing his eyes. “Just know that I feel like I have jelly for legs, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to collapse the minute I try and get out of this bed, and I'm dying for a drink, but none of that will stop me from chasing your arse through this hospital and tackling you to the ground if you try to run away.”

To his credit, Teddy didn't bother to pretend like he hadn’t been planning on making a break for it. He sighed and loosened up, leaning into the chair and resting his hands in his lap. 

“Please don't do that. Nice to see your self-destructive habits are still intact, though.” With a roll of his eyes, Teddy summoned a glass of water from across the room. James gulped it down eagerly, almost spilling it down his front. 

“You must have questions?”

When Teddy twisted his fingers together, James knew that things were worse than he’d first thought. Teddy was largely good at hiding how he felt in tough situations, and he only played with his hands—twisting and wringing them—when he was incredibly, deeply nervous.

Questions were pretty much all James had right then. But this seemed like it was unsteady ground, and he apparently had to tread carefully. It was tempting to ask about the match again, if only to defuse some tension, but he didn't know how long they had until his parents came back.

“Yeah, I do,” James said, levering up onto his other elbow. “Are you okay?”

Teddy jolted like he’d been struck. Splashes of colour bled from root to end of each thin strand of hair on his head, and it went from brown to black to red to blue to faded, sickly green. It lingered there before dulling back to light, sandy brown. Teddy shook his head. 

“You're lying in a hospital bed, you’ve been unconscious for days, and you—I’m supposed to be the one asking that, James.”

James shrugged. “I'm fine.”

And he was. With the memories of the match had come the memories of weeks and weeks of steadily growing more tired, of feeling the energy leech from him day by day. He remembered falling asleep on the sofa, in chairs and in beds and in cars, and finally on brooms. There had been an ache in every muscle, a loose-limbed fatigue that made it hard to think or stand straight. And now it wasn't there. Sure, sitting up felt impossible, but James reckoned he'd be alright within a day or so. That was probably just from lying still for so long. 

“How long was I here?”

“A few days,” Teddy said, sighing heavily. “Five, if you want to be exact.” 

Five days. Five fucking days lying in a bed while everyone worried around him. James winced, eyeing Teddy; the miserable cloud gathered round him made sense now, as did the creases in his clothes and his sad hair, and his twisting hands.

“I do. Tell me everything.” 

For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossed Teddy’s face. He averted his gaze, too, which he never did around James. They were never anything but honest with each other. 

Well, _almost_ always honest. But Teddy wouldn't want to hear about James and his crush, or about how he didn't think it was a crush anymore so much as it was a burning, deep-rooted love that had settled in and grown strong. 

“I don't know how to tell you,” Teddy said, before James could question him on why he was being weird. “It's kind of complicated.”

“Alright,” James said slowly. “What was the Curse?”

The door burst opened. Dad careened in with a wild, lost look on his face that began to clear when he saw James, propped up and equally as wide-eyed. 

“Christ, Dad, you nearly knocked it off the hinges. Where's the fire?” 

“It worked,” Dad said, swivelling to stare at Teddy. “It really worked.”

Teddy gaped at him. “It was your idea!”

Dad started laughing then. James wondered, as he was buried under messy hair and strong arms, whether Teddy had been waiting for that moment—because as soon as James couldn't see him, face hidden by Dad’s shaking shoulder, Teddy slipped out of the door.

*

“I think there's a law about moping if you’ve just got out of hospital,” Albus said thoughtfully, dropping a crinkly package in his lap. “Yeah, definitely a law.”

“What?” James picked up the package and opened it, groaning happily as he inhaled the scent of hot, buttery croissant. “Fuck yes. Is this from Scorpius?” 

Albus sniffed indignantly. “It's from both of us.” 

“Ha, you can't bake for shit. If Mini-Malfoy wasn't one step away from proposing to you, I'd sweep him off his feet, you know that, right?” 

Albus turned a bright, angry red. He didn't seem to know which part of that to address first, so James flustered him further by waggling his eyebrows, taking a decadent bite of flaky pastry and moaning. 

“Thank you James,” Scorpius said quite primly, stepping in from the kitchen. His coat was off, his hair windswept, and he couldn't quite look at either of them. 

“Didn't know you were here, mate, sorry.” James offered him a friendly grin, tipping the croissant his way. “The offer still stands though. My bed is always open.” 

“Right, shut the fuck up,” Albus hissed, making a swipe for the croissant. James licked along the top of it, much to Scorpius’s amusement, and Albus withdrew in disgust. “You're such a child. At least you're not moping, I guess.” 

James reclined back against the sofa. He'd taken up residence in his parents house for a bit, buried under old blankets with the TV on, where he slept only if there was someone with him. It was embarrassing, but James was concerned he might not wake up, and he jerked upright more than once with a pounding heart and sweaty hands. Dad had promised it would fade with time, but for now, he napped on the sofa, and someone was sharing the room with him at night. 

He might have been a bit more blue than usual, but he wasn't moping. 

“What was the law you were going on about?” 

“You can't mope if you've just scared the shit out of your entire family by getting bloody well Cursed,” Albus said succinctly, sitting on James’s feet and ignoring his squeak. “Happy faces only. There's a seven day waiting period before you get to be miserable again.” 

James snorted, wiggling his toes, but Albus's arse remained firmly in place. Scorpius settled into the chair on the other side of the room, oblivious to the mournful look shot across the space towards him. He looked curious, even more so when James didn't respond. 

“Are you still feeling tired? I was curious about your Curse, but I couldn't dredge up much in the Manor Library, and you weren't in a place to answer, really.”

“He's been dying to ask questions,” Albus said flatly. “Thought he was gonna explode at one point.” 

Scorpius turned pink, but didn't look too bothered, not even when James gazed at him in amusement. 

“Ask away,” James said, spreading his arms as he finished off the rest of the croissant. Through a mouthful of crumbs he said, “I'm in a place to answer now, I think.” 

Scorpius perked up and launched into a flurry of questions, some to do with magical theory, some to do with the origins of the Curse, and some to do with James’s reactions. James answered as best as he could; usually he might not care enough, or he'd make fun, but he actually liked Scorpius. He was sweet enough, and a funny bloke if you paid attention, and he was good to Albus. He was good _for_ Albus. He reminded James a bit of a Crup sometimes, with his excitable he got, but otherwise he was perfectly polite—a bit too much, but that just made him easy to tease.

“Scorp, I don't think he knows that,” Albus said, and James tuned back in when he realised how tight Albus’s voice had gotten. Scorpius stopped dead. 

“Wait, what?” James asked. “I wasn't listening.” 

Albus glanced at him sideways. “Nothing.” He caved pretty quickly when James shot him a glare, but James still didn't get an actual answer. “Dad said he was going to talk to you later, right? Well Scorpius just asked about the specifics of breaking the Curse, but Dad’s the one with all the information.”

James eyed him suspiciously. He'd asked, over and over, what had happened to break the Curse, but there had been a distinct lack of actual bloody answers. Dad just kept saying he needed someone else to help him explain it, but nobody had popped by with any answers. It was partly why he was moping. 

Partly. The other part was largely to do with someone else that hadn't popped by. 

“Why were you moping?” Scorpius blurted out, obviously at a loss for how to continue now that his last question had failed so badly. “Sorry, I panicked. But I also would like to know.” 

James laughed, shaking his head. “Since you brought me a croissant, I'll answer that for you. I was just hoping Teddy might have dropped by, that's all. But I wasn't moping.”

He shrugged as though it was nothing important, but Albus cast him a sharp look anyway, seeing right through him. They'd talked—or rather, the entire family had talked _at_ him until he promised not to hide things in the future, especially when they pertained to his health, but Albus had been one of the most vocal. It was sort of sweet, to see how much Albus cared, but James wished he hadn't gone through all this just to see it. 

It was a lot. He'd put everyone through a lot, however accidental it had been. Freddie had been by to cry a bit, make James swear not to tell, and then bother him with bad, homemade jokes. The whole team were taking him out to lunch tomorrow, provided he was feeling alright, and Paul had popped by with Jess and a couple of books. Hugo presented him with home cooked ravioli and promised that all the plants had been watered, the flat taken care of. Mum and Dad were an inch off being smothering, and Grandma was several inches over. George had sent skiving snackboxes, Ron had sent muffins and an apology, and Hermione had been over shortly after to interrogate him on the aftereffects of the Curse, with a few added tests and spells, which explained the apology. 

Lily and Albus had barely left him alone. But Teddy hadn't been by, not even once. James had gotten one measly little note yesterday to explain that he was sorry, but there was a case at work, and he'd be around soon. But that wasn't right. Something wasn't right, and soon felt very far away. Soon felt like it was on the opposite end of a fathomless chasm, or something equally as dramatic. 

It was stupid to get upset about it, but Teddy’s absence hurt. James couldn't help but wonder what he'd done wrong. He also couldn't help but wonder how he'd done it _in his sleep._

“So,” Scorpius said, navigating cautiously through the contemplative silence. “Your dad doesn't get back for a while, does he? I have cards, if you want to play?” 

Albus jumped on the opportunity, summoning the coffee table closer to the sofa. James wriggled upright, discarding the croissant wrapper, and brushed off his hands. 

“Fine with me, but I get to choose what we play, since I'm frail and sick.” He faked a yawn just to see Albus scowl; cards might not have been as good as seeing Teddy, but it was a nice way to pass the time until dad got back, and James could pester him for answers. “Albus can't play poker, so I vote we play strip-snap.”

As Scorpius dealt, crimson-cheeked, and Albus loudly refused to play if clothes were coming off, James quietly vowed to get whatever answers he needed, and then find Teddy by tomorrow. 

If he wasn't going to come to James, then James was going to come to him, and fix whatever had broken while he wasn’t around to keep an eye on things.

*

“Alohomora.”

The door to Teddy’s flat unlocked with a click. James shoved the door open and stepped inside, scowling as he pulled his shoes off and hid them, one in a bag hanging on the door, and one in the television unit. There was a shoe rack, but if Teddy saw them there, he might run again, and James wasn't in the mood to chase him across London. 

He would, but he wasn't in the mood for it, so it wouldn't be an enjoyable experience for either of them.

With that done, James stormed into the bedroom. Teddy was at work—no surprises there, but the sheets were mussed as though he'd only now left them behind. Part of James longed to curl up in them, but he thought Teddy might implode if he came home to that. Not that it wouldn't serve the bastard right, but James could hardly call him out on being an arse if he exploded into itty bitty pieces in his own flat. 

Avoiding the bed, James dug through the dresser instead. Remus Lupin’s jumper wasn't there. Frowning, James searched all the drawers, then the living room, then the washing, and then summoned it for good measure, but it didn't show up. 

“Right,” James said, staring at the sofa where he'd fallen asleep on Teddy. “Fuck this.”

Dad had told him everything, a few days ago. The Curse; the tale of Sleeping Beauty, written by Muggles and stolen by Wizards; the five days of worrying and questioning; the conversation he'd had with Teddy in his office; and finally, the kiss. 

Teddy had kissed him. Teddy had kissed him awake, broken his Curse, and then buggered off. 

“Fuck that,” James said again, and headed for the television unit. 

When he had his shoes again, James stepped smartly into the Floo with a handful of powder. It flared bright, livid green. James held his breath and tucked his elbows in tightly as he was sucked through fireplaces, spinning and spinning until eventually he stumbled out of a familiar one. 

Teddy’s office was as empty as his flat. A portrait hung on the wall of a painted man snoozing in a large hammock. There was very little that connected it with Teddy, barring the notes full of spidery handwriting and bored doodles; and there, on the back of the chair, a very familiar jumper. 

Sighing, James picked it up, dusting the soot off his hands first. It felt as soft as it did the morning James ripped it. He wondered if Teddy had been wearing it lately, or if it was here from the near-week James had spent asleep, when they had been trying to figure out how it happened. 

James picked it up and held it close just as the door opened, letting in laughter. Teddy stilled in the doorway, a silhouette in the yellow hallway, a case file clutched in his hand. The knuckles went white, the parchment crinkling. 

“You do know it's me, right, and not the Grim?” James said, lowering the jumper. He still kept it close, though. “No death omens here, just your best friend, y’know. Remember me?” 

Teddy expelled a sigh, shutting the door with his foot. 

“At least you're still in the room, I guess, although I've had nicer greetings.” James kept his voice light and airy, as though they were discussing the weather. “Did I tell you about that time I won us a match and Callum was waiting for me in the showers, naked? Granted, he didn't know it was me walking through the door, but it was still way nicer than this.”

Teddy glared at him as he stalked across the room. The files went down on the desk with a sharp slap. 

“I don't really want to talk about you seeing Callum naked.”

“Great!” James mock-cheered, one fist in the air that he dropped pretty quickly. “Let's talk about you being a complete cock instead.”

Teddy's glare faltered. He stared at the floor, leaning one hip against the desk, and James was going to actually strangle himself _and_ Teddy with the sleeves of this jumper, because Teddy looked guilty. It was what James wanted, although he would have been happy with just an explanation, but it still made him feel like he'd been kicked in the gut. 

“Jamie,” Teddy started, but didn't go on.

“I don't understand,” James said. “I mean, what the fuck, Teddy?”

“I'm sorry,” Teddy said softly, still not looking at him. It took James by surprise. “I expect you know what happened, and I'm sorry, Jamie, really. I wouldn't have done it if there was another way, but you weren't waking up, and I figured I'd rather do it and apologise to you afterwards than not do it and leave you the way you were.”

“Wait, wait,” James said, holding up a hand. “Wait, hang on, go back. What exactly are you sorry about?” 

Teddy lifted his head, a light frown merging his eyebrows together. “The kiss. For kissing you without asking, when you couldn't say yes or kiss back.” 

The world did several cartwheels before righting itself. Things began to click into place, revealing a much more sense-making sort of picture than the one James had been dealing with lately. Because he'd thought Teddy didn't give a fuck, didn't care that he'd just gotten out of hospital, and yeah, maybe he'd known otherwise deep down, but it had still hurt.

“Really.” James blinked, clutching the jumper tightly again. “Because I don't have a problem with that. I came here to yell at you for avoiding me for the last few days.”

“What?” 

“I've been trying to talk to you, and you keep buggering off and hiding and not answering your door! You sent me a note, and then never dropped by. It was driving me up the wall!” 

“No, I meant, how can you _not_ have a problem with that?” Teddy stared at him in disbelief. “I kissed you. You were unconscious, sleeping, or whatever, and we aren't together, and I kissed you. Without consent.”

_We aren't together._ James scowled. It was true, but it still stung to hear. James put the jumper down on the desk and smoothed it out, sorting carefully through his words. Usually he'd march right in and make whoever was listening understand, but Teddy was upset, and he didn't like that. He didn't want to accidentally make it worse. 

“I talked to everyone you talked to, when you were trying to figure this out,” James said, watching Teddy for a reaction. “They all said that they practically had to beat the truth into you. Paul said you didn't believe I worried about you when you were at work. Lily said you didn't want kiss me to end the Curse, but you did. I'm going to guess it wasn’t because you just fancied a snog.” 

Teddy groaned, dragging one hand down his face. “No, James. I didn't kiss your unconscious body because I fancied a snog.” 

James hid a grin. “When people go into hospital, family sometimes has to make decisions for them, right? If they're unconscious, or need spellwork done, they give consent because you can't. I know it wasn't ideal, but I trust you, Teddy, and so does everyone else. You're family, and you made a decision that could only help me, not hurt me.”

“So it was a medical kiss,” Teddy said, after a moment of silence, staring intently at him. “That's what you're saying?” 

“I’m saying _thank_ you, you giant prat.” James rolled his eyes when all he got was stunned silence. “Thank you for breaking my Curse, even though it made you uncomfortable.” 

Teddy eyed him, clearly unsure, and then his shoulders relaxed all at once. It was like a weight had lifted, like he'd been carrying all his guilt on his back. With a soft voice, Teddy said, “Thank you for waking up.”

James shifted on his feet. It was his turn, now, to feel a bit guilty, although he was sure his guilt was more well-founded. 

“About that,” James said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. This whole thing was my fault in the first place, and then you got dragged into it because I couldn't keep my feelings in check. I've been trying to find you because I wanted to yell, but also because I wanted to apologise.”

“James,” Teddy said, so sharply that James looked up immediately, catching his intense gaze. “Don't apologise.”

“Don't tell me what to do.”

Teddy sighed, rolling his eyes. “That must be a reflex by now. Look, I regret kissing you—”

“Ouch.” 

“Shut up,” Teddy said, with another glare that wasn't even halfway genuine. “I regret kissing you because, like I said, you couldn't say yes, and you couldn't kiss _back._ Think about that for a minute.” 

James didn't need a minute; he needed a fucking year to comprehend that, and then another one to recover from the implication. 

“So,” James said, taking one stunned step forward. “So you're saying… help me out here.”

“I regret how it happened,” Teddy said, smiling to take the sting out of the words. “But I don't regret that it was me the Curse was directed at. It's not how I wanted our first kiss to be, and that's why I dragged my feet. Not because I didn't want to kiss you.” 

James swallowed. “Me too. I want to kiss you too. Obviously. And I only regret that I wasn't more responsive, that's all.” Teddy laughed, and James grinned brightly before adding, “I love you, Teddy.” 

Teddy sucked in a breath. It felt very warm in the room, and James’s palms were sweating, but he wasn't afraid. Maybe it was too much, too soon, but James needed to say it. He needed Teddy to know.

“I might as well say that, too, before a Curse comes along and says it for me.” James felt pinned in place, caught in a blue-eyed gaze. “But I would have said it soon anyway, without all this. I've been feeling it for a while. I've loved you for ages, y’know? It just felt like a good time to finally say it.”

Someone laughed as they strolled past the closed door, jarring James out of the moment. When he glanced back, Teddy had one hand on the desk and was watching him the same way he had in the hospital, like he couldn't believe James was real, awake, in front of him. Like he needed to know all of him, right now, just in case someone asked him something trivial later on. It was humbling to be looked at like that, and it sent a shiver through him from head to toe. 

“You don't have to say it back,” James began, but Teddy cut him off, stepping closer. 

“I love you.” Teddy gave him a small smile. “I don't have a lot of fancy words, but I love you, Jamie. You have to know that.”

James had known that—the Curse wouldn't have broken if it weren't true, but that didn't matter. As far as James was concerned, this was the very first time he had known this, that Teddy loved him the same way James loved Teddy. He grinned up at Teddy, suddenly unable to stop. He got a warm, tender smile in return.

“Just for the record, I want to hear that a lot, later.” James lifted his eyebrows suggestively. “Wanna try that kiss again, but with me awake this time?” 

“Yes,” Teddy said fervently, surging forward, “but for the love of fuck, don't say it like that. Makes me sound creepy.”

James laughed, meeting him in the middle, if the middle was the wall he found himself pressed up against. Teddy gathered him up and kissed him softly, as though he were made of glass, at odds with the desperate, rough way they clung to each other. More laughter from outside went ignored, and the man in the hammock snored on, and James and Teddy kept kissing until finally they had to breathe.

“We’re gonna have to work on our not-avoiding-each-other skills,” James said, tipping his head back against the wall with a dizzy laugh. “I refuse to let us be a rom-com, Teddy, you know how I feel about Albus’s stupid books and those films Scorpius makes us watch. Nobody ever talks to each other! They just avoid the problem, like someone in this room did.” 

“Pot, kettle, and this wasn't a rom-com,” Teddy mumbled, kissing a path down his neck, swift, hungry kisses that calmed to something reverent, something that made James shake. He spoke against the hollow of James’s throat. “Nothing’s felt very funny lately.” 

There was a wealth of feeling there. James had spoken to Albus, Lily, his parents, his cousins and friends, his teammates; he had comforted them all, been comforted in return, and watched as the fear faded slowly from their faces and movements, happy relief taking its place. But Teddy had stayed away. Teddy would no doubt still be feeling it all. There was time to fix it, though. 

James slid a hand into Teddy’s hair and tugged him back to eye-level, smiling as brilliantly as he knew how. “Good thing I'm awake then, isn't it? Knock knock.” 

“A very good thing,” Teddy said, and then kissed him again to stop the joke in its tracks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe this is actually complete, and I updated on the days I said I would. A, if I may, fucking miracle. Thanks again, lovelies! Let me know what you thought, if you want, but if you’re mean I’ll unleash wasps! Ta! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Ta! I really hope you enjoyed, let me know what you thought, if you like! <3


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